


Backseat lovers

by lazyphannie



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, brief mention of masturbation, mention of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22106308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyphannie/pseuds/lazyphannie
Summary: Reading festival 2010
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Backseat lovers

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published phanfic so hopefully it’s alright.
> 
> if you want to pop on over to my tumblr [alazyphannie](https://alazyphannie.tumblr.com) i have a feeling I'll be doing more shit on there

It was raining. Hard.

The water cascaded down like god had perhaps decided that he’d had enough of the human race again and was trying to wash it all away.

Phil wouldn’t blame him if he did, but even the rain wasn’t loud enough to drown out the base from the set that was somewhere behind him. Crowds of people either frantically trying to get out of the rain, or just dancing harder than they had before.

Reading was just like that he supposed. That even when there was all the mush of water hugging the ground, creating a waste land that was the complete opposite of tent appropriate, people still flocked.

He couldn’t actually say anything to claim that he was any different than them. Not when he had decided to ignore the storm and instead sit in the mostly open field as far away from the music as possible. His body soaked, but at least the camping chair he had brought had protected him from the mud.

His blunt by now had been drowned thoroughly, wasted into oblivion by god’s disappointment. He wasn’t even sure why he kept comparing this storm to religious shit, it wasn’t like he believed or anything. Maybe it just seemed like a cool metaphor.

He wondered for a moment if he should write that thought down in case someone in the band could work it into lyrics before deciding that he could surely remember despite being still a little high.

The god stuff was on his mind a lot though. The whole thing of how it would be cool if he did believe. Maybe then he’d find more purpose than whatever the fuck he was doing with his life right now.

That wasn’t really fair to say. He was doing things. Touring with this band that he’d almost been accidentally thrown into just by the sheer luck that he could play guitar. He enjoyed making music. It was creative. It was fun. It wasn’t what he thought he’d be doing with his life and he doubted he’d continue it, but that shouldn’t have been the problem.

And it wasn’t like he was sad or anything. Or even lonely. He had friends. Although said friends were currently somewhere else. They’d left him alone a while ago, reassuring him they’d be back with booze and girls and maybe a boy just for him. He’d laughed at that. He’d also laughed when they hadn’t come back. Assuming they’d just gotten sidetracked due to the girl part. That wanting of trying to physicalise the euphoria that being on the road had with the use of women who were happy enough to feed their male ego.

And maybe feed something else if Phil’s was being honest with himself.

That was normally what happened when you were at a festival where your band had actually been apart of the set list and wasn’t completely a failure. It wasn’t like he could blame them. He too wished that he could feed that part of him with a real body instead of using his own hand.

It was just more awkward for him. People didn’t really know. Like they knew, but they didn’t know that when girls came up to him, trying desperately to pull his attention so they could have some entertaining story of how when they were younger they managed to snag a band member for just a night, that his attention was elsewhere. On the broad shoulders down the bar, or the calloused hands that stroked through short hair. And he never really had the confidence to just come out and say it because he couldn’t bare the thought of the world that had only just gotten to know him to suddenly disregard his presence again.

His hair drooped into his eye, water still pouring down, making it hard to even see anything without being blurred. That soft greyscale covering the land that made it feel like his head wasn’t wrong in assuming the end of humanity was near.

He felt like everyone in the world was gone but him, despite music still blasting loudly, and voices getting louder in the distant.

A laugh rattled him, it being closer than he had assumed and he turned around to find who had made it.

A small group of three walked close to where he was sitting. He watched as they looked at him weirdly. Probably because he was sitting on a camping chair in the middle of a clearing where it was currently pouring with rain. He felt awkward. His poor decision suddenly registering a lot harder in his brain with the judgement of other people to solidify it. That was until one of them, a boy, smiled and then shook his head like he was laughing. His cheeks crinkling up with dimples that forced all the breath out of Phil. Maybe he’d been the one he’d heard laugh before.

He expected them to keep walking away, he was planning on following the dimpled boy with his eyes until he was out of sight before deciding to register his own attraction to him but instead the boy turned into a tent that was to the left of Phil, whilst the company he’d been keeping carried on. The tents front had an opening, big enough for the boy to sit under without being threatened from the elements, and Phil watched as little fairy lights twinkled to life, and some low music began playing, contrasting to the booming bass in the other direction.

The setting looked close to the opposite of what Phil expected to see here but was a welcomed view nonetheless.

A couple minutes went by of Phil trying to avoid looking towards that tent whenever he heard the muffled sound of the boys voice singing along to whatever was playing, and instead focused on the cracking of thunder and the goosebumps that had now begun breaking out across his arms and legs when the dimpled boy walked over to him. Phil noticed within the first 3 seconds of him stepping out from under this shelter due to the great big splashes of mud that squelched under his feet. He watched as he came closer, trying to shield his face from the rain.

“Hi,” The boy shouted. His brown hair a mess due to the wind, and his face all scrunched up. He looked ethereal. “Do you want to join me?”

Phil wasn’t even sure what to say. How did he tell this stranger that was standing above him that nothing in this world seemed more appealing than joining him without coming across like a fucking creep.

“Uh, sure.” Is was he went with.

The two of them sat there. Under the boy, who Phil discovered was called Dan’s tent. Watching as the world continued to crumble in front of them and yet neither of them wanted to move.

Another blunt had been pulled out from somewhere, and was offered to Phil like some holy food destined for his lips and he watched silently as puffs of smoke blew into the nights sky. He felt drowsy. Like every one of his anxieties that ate away at his brain had been chased out of his head by the drug or the company he wasn’t sure. But he was sure that Dan was attractive.

His whole body seemed to radiate this energy of warmth that soaked into Phil’s thigh where it touched Dans. And Phil found it hard to keep himself from staring at him.

The way his lips parted as smoke flowed from them. The silver hoops that latched through his ears, and the one through his nose. The ringlets of brown curls that covered his head. His hands.

Phil forced his head to look away again.

Focus on anything but how desperately he wanted to shove his tongue down Dans throat and make him- make him what? He thought. Phil didn’t even know if this guy was gay, or anything. He was probably being the biggest creep ever. Fantasizing about the boy who was sitting right next to him. And yet there was this energy that seemed to surround the two of them. Phil could feel everytime Dan’s eyes slid across his body, down his torso. Back up to his mouth. He wasn’t imagining it, but he could always be reading into it.

“I liked your set,” Dan said, shocking Phil out of his thoughts for the second time that evening. “The songs brought back teenage nostalgia that I didn’t even know I had,” he chuckled.

Phil turned to look at him again, knowing this time he wasn’t going to be caught for doing anything he couldn’t explain. “Thanks,” he managed to say. “Honestly, I don’t really have those memories either. The other guys had crazier lives than me back then.”

Dan’s eyes met his and he watched as his expression grew to fit a smirk. “So you never fucked someone in a car”

Phil spluttered. “Uh no. I didn’t sadly.”

“Pity.”

Dan meets his eyes this time, and there’s this connection between them that glues Phil in place. He couldn’t look away from him if he wanted to, and then a hand’s reaching for his neck, and there’s lips on his and they’re kissing.

Desperation is what it feels like, with so much heat behind every movement. Dan’s tongue works it’s way past Phil’s lips breathing him in. Phil’s hand grabs Dan’s hair, tugging and willing him to never let go. They moved and kissed and made out, and Dan had still got his hand on Phil’s neck when he let out a whimper. The rain completely forgotten, along with the rest of time.

They pulled away eventually, Dan’s eyes half lidded and Phil’s mouth still open, waiting for the signs of regret to flicker between either of them but it didn’t.

“Let’s get out of here,” he finds himself saying. And Dan’s eager enough to follow when Phil tugs him along behind him grasping onto his hands like if they disconnect the universe will shatter.


End file.
